


Catharsis

by fairyfires



Category: Dan Vs.
Genre: Chris being a good friend, Depression, Gen, I was having a lot of Not So Great Feelings and needed to get them out of my system, I've been in this hell since 2011 I just want to be free, Impostor referenced, It's heavily implied that Dan has depression but it's never outright mentioned, Not Beta Read, breakdowns, since this is a vent piece there might be a break or two in the flow but I'll fix it later, so now Dan's suffering too lmao, this is my contribution to this trash can of a fandom ur welcome, vent fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-08
Updated: 2017-10-08
Packaged: 2019-01-10 13:25:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12300042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fairyfires/pseuds/fairyfires
Summary: It wasn’t Chris who was at fault here; it was Dan. He understood that. It was no wonder Chris didn’t answer half of his calls anymore, really. Dan was no one’s priority. He was no one’s best friend. He didn’t deserve to be.He had finally pushed Chris to the point of leaving him, and he had no one to blame but himself.- - -After the events of Dan Vs. Dan, something shifts in Dan and Chris's dynamic - and something shifts in Dan himself. Sometimes it takes reaching the end of your rope to realize what put you there in the first place.





	Catharsis

Dan grit his teeth, his chest tight as he tried to force his erratic breathing back into some semblance of a pattern. His trembling fingers clutched his phone a little too tightly to make up for the clamminess of his palms. He wanted to pace around his apartment - he wanted to throw things around, kick over his coffee table, scream, yell, break something, he wanted to _wring Chris’s fucking neck if he kept ignoring his calls_ … but he couldn’t even get off of the floor.

Over the past three weeks, something had been wrong.

Every day, he had woken to the same emptiness that tore the fire right out of his heart; and every night, he fell asleep to something even heavier. It followed him no matter where he went, chased him no matter what he did - it never changed, and it never faded. If he was alone for just an hour with his thoughts, it would overwhelm him in a way that he could not describe. He wasn’t sure that he even wanted to. Dan didn’t think something so dreadful should have ever existed to begin with.

He ground the palm of his hand against an eye, struggling to push down the torrent of awful thoughts he just couldn’t shake. He felt useless, even if he knew better than to truly believe that. He felt hopeless, even if he was well aware he’d never had hope to begin with. He felt alone, even if he knew that he wasn’t. Sure, Chris wasn’t calling him anymore, and he didn’t respond to his texts most of the time, but he was still _there_. So why did he feel like he was being left behind?

The call went to voicemail again. Dan hung up and dialed back immediately. He couldn’t say he wasn’t used to it now.

“Pick up the phone,” Dan murmured to the dial tone. He meant for it to be a shout, but it was no more than a whisper. He sat in silence, his breathing picking back up with every ring, and his vision steadily blurring. Something warm and wet slipped off of his nose. It was an unfamiliar sensation - and yet, one that he recognized immediately. “Not fucking this,” Dan hissed, wiping at his face in agitation as tears spilled forward. His face burned with what he could only assume was shame. He hadn’t cried in years - and now, here he was, curled up in a ball at the foot of his couch crying into the grimy carpet because his stupid idiot of a friend wasn’t answering his phone when Dan really needed him, and he felt sick and alone and he was blubbering like a fucking idiot for _no goddamn reason_ \--

“Dan, it’s two in the morning,” Chris complained. “what is it this time?” There was a tinge of irritation to his voice - and while it was the last thing that Dan had wanted to hear, it was the only thing he really needed to. He grit his teeth and yanked the phone away from his ear. He couldn’t read the words on the screen clearly anymore. Dan tapped on the red blur of the end call button just a bit too hard as he took a shaky breath. Why was he even calling Chris? What would he do? Nothing - _nothing, like always!_

Dan threw his phone blindly across the living room. He heard the case crack as it collided with something - or maybe it had busted through the old drywall. He didn’t care enough to look.

It wasn’t Chris who was at fault here; it was Dan. He understood that. It was no wonder Chris didn’t answer half of his calls anymore, really. Dan was no one’s priority. He was no one’s best friend. He didn’t deserve to be. He had finally pushed Chris to the point of leaving him, and he had no one to blame but himself.

His phone rang for the first time in weeks with an incoming call. The sound was distorted; Dan could only assume he’d broken the casing. He wouldn’t have been able to hear it clearly one way or another, though; he was crying so hard that not even Mr. Mumbles would approach.

* * *

It was barely a sound.

There was hardly a hitch in his breath - hardly a catch - and yet, it was the most emotion Chris had heard from Dan aside from wrath in years. That tiny, barely audible sniff from the other end of the call was enough to make his blood run cold for a moment. Dan wasn’t one to show anything but brazen self-assurance or scalding anger; and Chris would know. He couldn’t count the times he’d listened to his bizarre tirades over the course of their friendship. He was almost afraid to think about what could have finally pierced that iron hide of his.

Chris licked his lips as if it would coax the words forth more easily. His voice lowered. He didn’t know what was happening, but he knew that raising his voice could have consequences - and he was far from willing to discover what those might entail. “...Dan?” He cautioned. Three short beeps signaled the end of the call, and suddenly, every last vestige of sleep clinging to him had vanished. Chris’s heart raced as he sat up fully, pulling up the call log to dial him back. When it went to voicemail, his stomach flipped uneasily. Dan never let his phone ring out when he called.

Chris didn’t notice Elise moving until she’d laid a hand on his arm, scaring him half to death - he ended the call before the voicemail could roll. “Chris? Is something wrong…?” she yawned, squinting against the light of the phone’s screen. The blond tried to swallow the dryness in his throat, thumb hovering over the call button again. “Dan called,” he said quietly. Elise sighed heavily; he could almost feel her rolling her eyes. Her voice was muffled as she pulled the blankets back up to her nose. “What is it this time?”

His moment of hesitation was just enough to tell her that it wasn’t the usual early-morning fiasco. He lowered the phone to his lap as he bit his lip. “I, uh… I think… he was crying,” Chris replied uncertainly.

Elise lifted her head quickly, looking almost disturbed. “ _What?_ What happened?”

Chris shook his head. He hoped it would wake him up from whatever twisted dream he was having, but it all felt so real - even if it seemed so fake to him. “I-I don’t know,” he answered, “he called me, and I asked what he wanted, but he didn’t… he didn’t say anything. He just hung up after a second.”

Elise sat up, brushing her hair back from her face; there was a crease in her brow. Even if she could barely tolerate Dan most of the time, she knew that this wasn’t something routine. They’d both seen Dan with broken bones, in life-or-death situations, beaten halfway to hell and back - and yet, it never managed to make him cry. It never put him in a place where he wasn’t just as loud and obnoxious as always. “Did you try calling him back?”

“Of course I did! It just went to voicemail,” Chris sighed, looking down at his phone. He hadn’t returned the call yet. Oblivious as Chris was, he could tell that something was very, very wrong. He passed Elise an apologetic look. “I think I should check on him… I-I don’t feel right ignoring this."

To his surprise, Elise simply nodded, kissing his cheek before he could get out of bed. “Text me if you need anything - I’ll stay up for a little just in case.”

Chris smiled over his shoulder at her before he called Dan one last time, phone wedged between his shoulder and his ear as he gathered up some clothes. It rang out once again. “Dan? It’s Chris. I guess you knew that already,” he stammered unsurely. He was used to being a scapegoat, a chauffeur, a part of his wild schemes - but so few times had he ever had this particular pair of shoes to fill. Dan was never one to ask for a shoulder to cry on, and Chris was usually too clueless to realize when he needed to be one. “Look, I-I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m coming over, okay? I’m worried about you. I’ll be there as soon as I can, just… please don’t do anything stupid.” His voice caught for a moment on the last few words. He always worried about Dan getting hurt as a side-effect of his stupid ideas, but he never imagined he’d have to warn him not to do so intentionally.

The moment he’d locked his phone, he was down the hall and grabbing his keys. He didn’t worry about his inside-out-and-backwards shirt, or his unlaced shoes.

None of that mattered as much as getting to Dan’s apartment before bad could become worse.

* * *

 Dan didn’t realize his eyes had closed until he opened them to the sound of the door.

He couldn’t be sure if he had been asleep or just Somewhere Else, but when his vision focused to his arm outstretched on the dingy carpet between himself and the couch, it felt like days had passed. There was no more violent churning of emotions in his chest, no more furious unhappiness; he was just exhausted. He didn’t want to be awake, and yet, he could no longer sleep. Dan knew his breathing had slowed. He knew that, from the outside looking in, he appeared much calmer - but he’d almost have preferred what he felt before to the cold void that took up his head now. 

Dan pulled his arm to himself as if it was the hardest thing he’d ever done, curling his fingers into the fabric of his shirt. His joints ached. He knew he should go warm himself up, but his legs didn’t feel as if they were attached to his body - hell, his body didn’t even feel as if it was his own.

He didn’t realize that the door had opened until he heard it close.

“Dan?"

He sighed under his breath. At least it was someone familiar breaking into his house, right? The thought wasn’t much of a reassurance either way. There was silence for a long moment - Dan would have said something witty or rude to break it, but he didn’t have the energy left. “You should really lock your door,” Chris said finally, voice almost meek.

Dan wanted to argue. He _really_ wanted to argue. He wanted to say that, if someone wanted in, they would just as easily break a window - that there was nothing worth stealing in his shithole of an apartment aside from his cat, and she’d sooner claw someone’s eyes out than be stolen. Instead, he just squeezed his eyes shut and scrubbed angrily at his forehead where a distant ache was starting to form.

“Why are you here, Chris,” Dan grumbled. It was more of a tired statement than it was a question, and he wanted to kick his own teeth in for it. He wasn’t supposed to be like this. Dan wasn’t pathetic and pitiful. He wasn’t too apathetic to get off of the floor, and he sure as hell didn’t let Chris give him shit about his decisions. He was supposed to be hard-headed and cavalier. Not _this_.

Another pause. “I was worried about you.” Dan snorted. Something held him back from his usual smart-ass remarks. It was a different pause than his lack of energy had given him - this one felt suspiciously close to fear. He knew he was already on thin ice in a room full of fucking eggshells. If he made a misstep and pissed Chris off, there would be nothing stopping him from cutting Dan out of his life forever. He was terrified of what might happen to him if he lost Chris for good.

Chris rested a hand on his shoulder, and Dan nearly shivered. He hadn’t registered just how cold he’d gotten until he felt the warmth of someone else so close to him. “Dan, what’s going on with you?” Chris asked carefully.

“Nothing, I’m…” Dan took a deep breath.

 _Fine_ , he wanted to say. _I’m fine, there’s nothing going on with me,_ he wanted to tell him. It would have been a feeble lie at best. Better to say nothing at all.

Chris sat on the floor with his back to the couch, legs stretched out by Dan’s head. He couldn’t bring himself to meet his eyes. He couldn’t bear to see the look of pity he knew that the other was wearing - or worse yet, the look of disgust he should have had on at seeing Dan on the floor like that. When Chris pried his hand away from his shirt, he didn’t resist. He just stared at the dust under his couch as the blond’s thumb traced over his knuckles carefully and wondered why the hell Chris would ever have cared about someone as awful as himself in the first place.

“This doesn’t look like nothing,” he said gently. The edges of his vision warped with tears, and Dan grit his teeth as he took a sharp breath. Not now - not in front of Chris. Crying alone was bad enough; he couldn’t have a fucking breakdown in front of Chris, he’d never live it down! He’d think he was weak, or useless, or… something else that he’d been called in his past that he tried so hard not to be anymore. Dan tried to swallow down the knot in his throat.

“ _Why are you_ here, _Chris_ ,” he said again. He hoped his expression looked angrier than he felt.

“ _Because I’m worried about you_ ,” Chris repeated, conviction in his voice. “Because you called me while you were _crying_ , Dan, and then you hung up without a word - and then I get here, your door isn’t locked, y-you’re curled up on the ground and you look like you haven’t slept for days, and… Dan, look at me. Please.” He ground his teeth together, glaring out of the corner of his eye at Chris; the blond just looked back down at him with distress in his gaze, worrying his lip between his teeth. It felt like a personal defeat. Chris seemed to consider his words carefully before he finally spoke, no louder than a stage whisper.

“Because you’re trying to make yourself be okay right now, but… i-it’s fine if you’re not okay sometimes. And I don’t think that you know that. You’re allowed to be upset about things, Dan. I’m your friend. You don’t… you don’t have to shut me out like this.”

“You’d be better off worrying about someone else,” Dan hissed. “someone worth your fucking time.”

The admittance was all it took to break him back down. A tear slipped off of his cheek, and Dan felt that awful tightness in his ribs again. He turned his face into the carpet as he ripped his hand free of Chris’s, and he half hoped that he would smother himself to get out of this confrontation. He was being a brat. He was being a selfish, stupid, spoiled fucking brat, and Chris had better things to do than see him through his little temper tantrum.

Chris shifted to stand wordlessly, and Dan felt his heart plummet. Chris had finally come to his senses. He was finally going to leave Dan behind, and it was going to be his fault, just like everything else. Part of him was glad. If Chris blocked him out forever, he’d stop getting dragged into Dan’s horrible ideas every other day of the fucking week - he’d be safer and happier for it, and that was what Chris deserved. Dan should be miserable on his own time instead of wasting anyone else’s. This was for the best.

When two arms slid under him and hauled him off of the ground, his breath caught on a sob he’d been trying to muffle. Chris sat back down on the couch, leaving Dan in his lap; but his arms never moved. Dan felt something white-hot flare in his chest, and he shoved against Chris’s chest - how fucking dare he manhandle him when he was already feeling so low? He didn’t need to be coddled!

“Let go of me,” Dan snarled, trying to shift so he could kick himself free of Chris’s hold; all he managed to do was curl in on himself, shoving his folded legs between them. It wasn’t like Chris had him in a choke hold - he was just hugging him, the fucking idiot. It should have been easy to wiggle out of his grip, but he just didn’t have the fighting spirit left in him to do it.

“ _Christopher!_ ” He demanded, his voice breaking as his breathing stuttered over a hiccup. “You will _regret this_ , Chris, you hear me? You - f-fuck,” Dan choked out. That was it - he was at his breaking point.

And all it took was Chris asking, simply, “What’s this about?”

“ _You replacing me!_ ” He screamed, grabbing a handful of his shirt’s collar and yanking - it wasn’t nearly as hard as he would have liked, but at least the other had the decency to look a little bewildered by his words. Dan was nowhere near done. This had been building up for weeks, and nothing on earth could handle an infinite amount of pressure without bursting- not a bottle of soda, not a water balloon, and certainly not a human being who felt he’d been stabbed in the back by the only person he’d ever been close to.

“We’ve been - I-I thought we were _friends_! Friends since we were just kids in summer camp! I thought after all these years, I could count on you! That I could trust you! I would fucking _die for you_ if you asked me to, Chris, _do you understand me!?_ ” Tears pattered onto the denim of his jeans steadily, but Dan hardly noticed.

There was no stopping a volcano’s flow once it had erupted, and both of them knew it.

“And you just - pick any lowlife piece of identity-stealing shit out of the goddamn dumpster, give him my name, and brush me under the rug like I'm fucking nothing? Is that what friends do, Chris!? Ditch each other as soon as someone a little better comes along? Maybe you should have - maybe you should've just let that scumbag take my place! It’d be so much _fucking_ easier than dealing with my shit all the time, _wouldn’t it?_ ”

Chris stared wide-eyed at Dan for a long moment. Dan still had his collar pulled up into a shaking fist, and he hoped the glare he had him fixed with was like a goddamn knife into his heart, because part of him couldn’t bear to take the brunt of all of this on his own anymore.

He couldn’t stand the thought of that slimy, fucked-up monster of a human taking his place, because as much as Dan hated him, and as terrible as he was, Dan knew that he was just as toxic. He was a time bomb with no countdown to indicate when he’d detonate. He was broken glass. No matter how carefully Chris handled him, he’d wind up hurt eventually. He'd be better off with someone a little less unpredictable. 

The Impostor was right. He wouldn’t have been missed - and he _wasn’t._

Not even Chris would have missed the real him.

Chris’s startled expression slowly crumbled. There was guilt - but there was something else, too. Dan didn’t care to try and place it. “Dan,” he started quietly. “You’re… loud, and rude, and sarcastic. You get us into trouble way more often than I’d care to admit, and I can’t count how many hours of sleep I’ve lost to you. Sometimes, I wonder why I stick around at all.” Dan’s fingers slowly uncurled from the front of his shirt. Chris caught his hand before it could slip away fully, and squeezed his fingers tightly.

“But I… I-I know why. You’re determined, clever, and you’ve got more spirit and drive than anyone else I’ve ever met. Nothing keeps you down - nothing ever has, and nothing ever will. Hell, I don’t think there’s anything on this earth that could really get in your way. I don’t… I-I can’t say why I thought anyone else would ever be able to fill your shoes. You’re the only you that could ever exist,” Chris explained. “I don’t care how much of a pain in the ass you can be. I’m not making that mistake a second time.”

The only way he could describe the sudden outpouring was water breaking forth from a broken dam, or glass shattering after being tapped one too many times. Dan clung to the front of Chris’s shirt like it was the last thread attaching him to reality, and he cried into his shoulder like the world was ending around them and he wasn’t ready to leave. He’d never been allowed to just… let go before. He was always told to keep his emotions under wraps; he was always scolded for crying, or antagonized over coming anywhere close to it.

But Chris wasn’t annoyed. He wasn’t trying to shut him up. He just held him close, fingers brushing through his tangled hair, hands smoothing over his trembling shoulders as he let Dan go through his emotional purge. He never felt like he was falling apart, because Chris was holding him together all the while, telling him that everything would be alright. For once, Dan listened to him - and somehow, he managed to believe him.

He’d wake up the next morning with his head tucked under Chris’s chin, and Mr. Mumbles curled up between them. He’d wipe his eyes, punch him in the shoulder, and tell him that Chris to stop smothering him. Chris would complain about him hitting too hard and ask about breakfast. They would never speak of the incident again, and Dan wouldn't thank him directly.

Not all would be right in the world, but they’d be on their way.

Just as any other storm, this one would pass.

**Author's Note:**

> why? do i keep?? projecting my problems onto my favorite characters??????


End file.
